


Two Turtle-Doves

by Kitcat300



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, First Christmas Together, Garcy Secret Santa 2020, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant - s02e11-12 The Miracle of Christmas (Timeless), Post Rittenhouse defeat, two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:21:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28218396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitcat300/pseuds/Kitcat300
Summary: It's Christmas Eve and Flynn and Lucy are being their usual selves, skirting around their attraction for one another until fate gives them a gentle nudge.  Will they realise what's obvious to everyone else or will they continue to hide their feelings?
Relationships: Garcia Flynn/Lucy Preston
Comments: 7
Kudos: 41
Collections: Timeless Secret Santa Fic Exchange 2020





	Two Turtle-Doves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kissedbydragonfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissedbydragonfire/gifts).



> Happy Secret Santa @Kissedbydragonfire!
> 
> Hope you like it. 🎄

Standing over the sink in what had once been her mother’s kitchen, Lucy twirled up a mouthful of yesterday’s cold take-out while on the other end of the line her friend asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to come over?”

She gulped back the half chewed stands. “Jiya, I’m fine.”

“I don’t like the thought of you alone at Christmas.” 

Two short years ago the idea would have been unthinkable. The festive season had always been so full of life and laughter in the Preston household. There’d been tree decorating, disastrous attempts at icing cookies (that one had gone on hiatus when her father had died but had returned after her mother became bedbound) and singing. There were the trips to church and the frequent stops at the café round the corner for full-fat no holds barred hot chocolates with all the trimmings. Every year there had been the Christmas parties; faculty, friends, family.

This year she’d put up the tree alone. It stood naked in the window, tribute to the fact she hadn’t had the heart to go through years of memories while unpacking the ornaments. Her greatest fear was that in opening the boxes she’d find not just the ghosts of Christmas past but the haunting absence of all those treasured things that no longer existed.

“We’ll be seeing each other in less than twenty-four hours. I’m coming over for dinner tomorrow, remember?” 

Jiya’s voice brightened. “I know. Rufus’s mom is making the Christmas dinner to end all dinners.” There’d been promises of everything from roasted meats and nut roast to pies and puddings aplenty. “Denise is cooking some of her favourite treats as well. I swear, we’re going to need a small army to get through it.” She paused then whispered, “Rufus wants to get extra food for Boxing Day.” 

The idea of Rufus’ beatific face as he slumped on a sofa, patting an overfull belly prompted a laugh. “See?” And Lucy would feel Christmassy tomorrow. She was sure of it. She just needed a little more time.

“Yeah. But that’s tomorrow night. You’re going to be alone tonight. On Christmas Eve.”

Using the time it took to put the now empty carton in the garbage Lucy tried to order her thoughts into something Jiya would understand. “After everything, I guess that’s what I need. A couple of hours on my own to really process. Last year we were in the bunker and Rittenhouse was everywhere. Christmas was just another day that kind of slipped passed in the hope they didn’t jump. This year will be my first year at home without Mom,” a gulp, “and Amy.”

“All the more reason-”

Lucy cut her off before they went round the circle again. “Your past is pretty much how you remember it Jiya. Your mom is still your mom. Your dad was still your dad. The past I remember doesn’t exist here. I need tonight to get my head straight.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. “Okay.”

If she’d hoped that was a conversation killer she’d been wrong. 

“What about Flynn?”

It was stupid to blush in an empty room but Lucy felt her cheeks heat anyway. “What about him?” 

“You know.”

“Know what?” Trying to sound airy and offhand Lucy forgot to look where she was going and managed to smack her elbow on the corner unit, having to muffle her curses while hopping around and trying not to cry.

“Have you spoken to him?”

She clamped her teeth together and managed, “We talked yesterday.” Across a table littered with coffee cups and miniature cookies, him drinking espresso strong enough to melt metal and her sipping at cinnamon and apple triple shot lattes. His fingers had worried at the edges of the cookies until they started to crumble while his tongue flicked up at his lip in a gesture that was as maddening as it was familiar.

“And..?”

They’d spoken in lowered tones of finding a place in their new reality. They’d laughed quietly about Lucy having to resist blurting out facts that were no longer true if she chose to teach again, about what types of job Flynn might apply for now that his record had been expunged. He’d muted the idea of landscape gardening, something where he could keep his hands busy, somewhere he could find peace.

“Did you ask him about tomorrow?”

With the pain in her elbow subsiding the heat rushed back to Lucy’s cheeks. “He’s coming to Christmas dinner.”

“With you?” Damn, but the other woman was like a dog with a bone.

“It’s not like that Jiya. We’re just friends.”

A sound rather like that of something hitting a wall repeatedly came down the telephone line. “For someone so smart how can you be so dumb?”

See. This was why drinking and girls talk was a bad idea. She said one time – ONE TIME – that she might have an itsy-bitsy little crush on their tall Croatian teammate and now Jiya had turned it into a thing. “You’re reading too much into this.”

“Am not.”

“You sound like a child.”

“And you sound like you’ve gone deaf, dumb and blind. Flynn’s smitten. Ensorcelled. Totally head over heels-”

Tuning her out Lucy strode to the boot cupboard, retrieving her coat, scarf and hat. “You’re wrong and I need to go out and grab a couple of things before the stores close.”

“Wimp.”

True, but it didn’t mean she was going to continue the conversation. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Even to her own ears she sounded unnecessarily harsh. She needed to soften her tone. “Jiya? Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas Lucy.”

Outside the sky was clear, the first stars starting to peak out of the velvet darkness. The sun had taken its winter warmth beyond the horizon so Lucy huddled closer into her coat, the red cashmere/wool blend a luxury she’d missed on her Lifeboat travels. Braving the last minute Christmas rush held no appeal but the crisp sting of air in her lungs was good, her thoughts ordering with every step.

Much as she hated to admit it Jiya wasn’t all wrong. At least not as far as Lucy’s feelings went. Lucy had wanted to ask Flynn to go with her to the dinner. She’d wanted him to ask her to go. But he hadn’t and she hadn’t and now it was close to six on the night before Christmas and her only company was her thoughts. 

It didn’t matter that she knew it was the right thing not to ask him. It was, after all, his first real Christmas without his family too. And he was grieving – _finally_ – working through all those emotions he’d bottled up since the night he’d lost them. Knowing that how could she ask him to be her date? To put aside all he’d lost just for her? 

How could she possibly have phrased it in case he didn’t feel the same way? 

Sure, there’d been times when she thought… Those last months in the bunker when they’d grown closer. (There was something liberating about being able to be her whole self, no pretence, no softening the edges.) Occasionally she’d looked up and caught him watching her or heard a note in his voice that struck a chord. Once, a little worse for wear with a bottle of vodka between them, she’d thought maybe he was nearer than he’d been before, that his eyes were more inclined to linger on her lips, that if she was to lean forward he might… But that was just wishful thinking. Look how it had turned the out last time she’d allowed herself to try and force something that wasn’t really there. No. It was better this way. Better to have a best friend she knew would be there for her no matter what, someone she could be there for too. And if in the dead of night she wished for more? Well, nobody had to know that but her.

A surprising amount of noise up ahead told her she’d walked further than she intended, that she’d left the streets of her neighbourhood, that her feet had taken a familiar path without any conscious thought on her behalf. The cluster of cafes and bars she approached were full of revellers getting a head start on the evenings’ festivities, spilling out onto the pavements and raucous in their renditions of festive tunes or season’s greetings. Seeking solitude Lucy turned down a side street, doubled back and arrived at a relatively quiet establishment that brought waves of nostalgia. Amy’s place.

It was odd to hear the same bell chime as the door opened. Strange to smell the almost familiar scents of the fresh baked pastries and treats. A gut wrench to see ‘their’ table occupied by a family with small children all bundled up and lost beneath hats and mittens. 

This was a mistake.

Spinning to leave a figure seated in the corner caught her eye. Taller by a head than most with an almost blue-black hair, flecked now with grey around the temple, wearing the burgundy turtleneck she’d tried and failed to steal several times over.

Her heart gave an odd little skip.

“Flynn?”

“Lucy!” His throat worked convulsively. “I thought you were spending the evening finishing your decorations?” One hand swept something off the table while the other indicated the spare chair across from him. 

Lucy shrugged. “That was the plan.” He waved over a server and ordered her a drink. “You were going to spend tonight baking something weren’t you?”

“Er, yes but…” Insanely long lashes swept across his cheeks before he looked up sheepishly. “I needed an excuse not to go over to Rufus and Jiya’s so I told him I’d run out of poppy seeds for the Makovnjača. I decided a walk might be prudent in case he called back.” His mouth gave a self-depreciative twist.

The urge to reach over and touch him was almost irresistible but friends did not randomly stroke each other’s cheeks. They certainly didn’t rub their thumbs across each other’s lips. Or lean forward to plant kisses on any exposed skin they could find. No, friends, especially those who wished to assure the other that their relationship was entirely platonic, sat calmly in their seats and listened. 

Would he notice if she sat on her hands?

Then it dawned on her. “Rufus invited you over tonight?”

The same switch flicked in Flynn’s head. “Jiya called you. That’s why you’re out.”

They each huffed out an awkward laugh, Lucy dropping her head into her hands while Flynn gave his a disbelieving shake. 

He caught her eye. “They meant it for the best I suppose. They didn’t want us to be alone at Christmas.”

“Yeah. It’s a couples’ thing. They want everyone else to be paired up too.” Lucy’s eyes widened as she realised what she’d implied. “Not that we – We’re not – You don’t – I don’t think – ” Her cheeks stung. Could she be any more gauche? “We’re friends!” She tried desperately. The word didn’t taste so good. “Best friends.”

“Friends.” Flynn repeated, a somewhat brittle smile on his face. 

Oh great, she’d gone and done it now hadn’t she? He was visibly uncomfortable at the idea of people pairing them off. This was that police officer in New York calling her his wife thing all over again.

Scrambling for a change in topic Lucy blurted, “I didn’t realise you knew about this place.” Although now that she saw him there she discovered it rather suited him. He was made for the backdrop of film noir posters and the faux 1930s décor.

He lifted a nonchalant shoulder. “A happy discovery.” With a nod of his head he conveyed his relief at the amount of unoccupied space around them. “I was about to start for home when I found it.” Was he putting off returning to an empty house then? “Is this your first time here?”

Sadness washed over her again. “It was Amy’s ‘go to’ place.”

Understanding marked his features as he reached over and laid his hand on top of hers, gave a gentle squeeze. “Nights like these.” His deep voice roughened.

They remained that way until her drink arrived, all while the excited chatter continued around them. She took a sip. He mirrored her. Flynn said something offhand about how warm it was outside. Lucy frowned as she huddled closer into her coat, complaining that winter was definitely upon them. He laughed about soft Californian’s. She parried with a note on self-satisfied Croatian’s. It didn’t take much for them to fall into their easy to and fro. Did a half hour pass or was it an hour? However long it was, the realisation that they were among the last of the customers gave them both a start.

“I should get going.” She didn’t want to, at least not alone.

Ever the gentleman he held her chair while she stood, adjusted his coat while casually stating, “I’ll walk you home. It’s getting late.”

She knew she should take a cab. He’d had plans. It was way out of his way to walk her back. But she found herself agreeing, secretly please not to have to bid him goodnight just yet. They fell into a pleasant quick step, or rather she did. Even as he tried to shorten his stride for her she found herself trotting to keep up. There were worse ways to stay in shape.

“I can’t believe I walked so far!”

He scanned her face as she moved to the curb to cross, put his hand on her arm to hold her back as he asked, “Are you tired? I could hail a cab.”

Did she look tired? Was that what he was saying? It didn’t sound much like Flynn but still. And when exactly had she become so completely self-conscious around him? About the same time she mentioned them being a couple in the cafe? Or earlier, when she’d started double checking her appearance before they met up? Whenever it was it had to stop. It was Flynn. The one person in the world she _didn’t_ have to pretend for. The one person who saw her for who and what she was and didn’t run screaming. The one person she truly lo- Her brain tripped before it finished the word. 

“No. It’s just I was thinking about other stuff and my feet went their own way.” Her voice sounded a touch strangled.

The directness of his observation made her squirm but whatever he saw seemed to satisfy him as he let go of her arm and allowed her to lead the way across the junction. 

Lucy thought he said, “Lucky for me.” But he wasn’t looking at her and she couldn’t be sure.

As they continued on her heart rate began to even out again. It was charming to see the lights as they walked, almost magical to see the variety of decorations from tasteful and discrete through to gaudy beyond belief. It was nicer still when he caught her shivering and pulled her to his side, offering his body heat to help warm her. That Christmassy feeling hovered tantalisingly close as the unique scent that was all Flynn surrounded her. Friends, she reminded herself every couple of steps. They were friends. It didn’t stop the melting inside of her or the urge to slip her arm under his coat and around his waist but it did help keep her hands in her pockets where they belonged.

When they got there, the only house not lit up on the block was hers. Flynn was too kind to say anything about it, just walked her up to the porch and waited for her to find her key. Any second now he was going to say something about leaving and these few brief hours of feeling the festive spirit, of not feeling alone, of feeling like she’d come home at last, would slink away with him. Unless…

“I can’t let you go without asking you inside.” That had sounded better in her head, not to mention slightly less desperately chipper. How to convince him to stay though? “It must be hours since your last meal.” Really? She had a doctorate from Stanford, had jumped through time for a secret government project, had defeated an evil organisation bent on world domination and the best she could do was offer to cook for him? And on which planet, exactly, was it a good idea? But if it got him over the threshold, “I could, um, whip something up?” Like packet Mac and Cheese? It might be edible.

Even in the half light from the street Flynn’s eyes were intense. 

The silence stretched just like every muscle in her body until he asked, “If you’re sure?”

In answer she swung open the door, stepped through it and flipped on the lights, breathing again only when she heard the latch catch behind him.

“I’ll just…” Lucy lifted her hands towards his shoulders, not sure exactly what she was planning to do with them but wanting him out of his coat as quickly as possible. (Of course, if she could have worked out a way to get him out of more than his coat that would be so much the better but that’s not what he was there for. _Friends, Lucy. Just good friends._ ) There was an awkward moment as he looked at her – obviously unsure of her intentions – before he half turned and shrugged the heavy material down his arms. She waved him through to the kitchen as she opened the closet door, tempted to bury her nose in the garment, practically misty eyed by the sight of his coat hung next to hers. How could something so mundane feel so right? Honestly, she was losing it.

In the kitchen she offered him a drink. “There’s wine in the fridge if you don’t want more coffee?” Inspiration struck. “I think there may even be something stronger in one of the cupboards.” She began routing around trying to remember where her mother had stashed the Brandy she kept in for her Bridge Club evenings. Would it still be alright after all this time?

“Lucy?”

She popped her head out of a cupboard, “Hmm?”

“I don’t want hard liquor.”

“Oh.” Straightening up and dusting off her knees, she bit her lip as she worked her way up to her confession. “About the food…”

He chuckled softly. “You only have pot noodles?”

“No!”

“Really?” A look of genuine surprise appeared. “They’re the only thing I’ve ever seen you cook.”

Lucy had the grace to look slightly guilty. “Denise and Michelle keep sending me care packages.”

“Ah.”

“So I could cook you something...”

He waited. Then waited some more. The smug bastard was going to make her say it. 

Then, out of the blue, “Would you like some help?”

It was fun pottering about in the kitchen together. Flynn’s help soon became more of a lead chef role but Lucy held her own when he asked her to make a start with the eggs. (By the time she’d cracked the third she stopped getting shell in the mix too. It was a personal victory.) She happily bumped her shoulder into his arm. He playfully tapped her on the head with the spatula he’d dug out of somewhere. The vegetable omelette they created together was more than edible and a lot more yellow than her usual black/brown offerings.

A sigh of pleasure escaped her. “Where did you learn to do this?” 

“Cook?” At her nod, “I learned a thing or two here and there. Army food can leave a lot to be desired so I experimented a bit when I got out. My grandmothers constant kitchen chatter must have stuck somewhere in my head too. Turns out I knew things about cooking before I ever tried it.”

Fascinated at the insight Lucy sipped at her water glass, realised it was empty and stood to get another drink, changing direction at the last second as she decided maybe wine wouldn’t be that bad of a choice after all. If she opened a bottle now he could hardly leave her alone to drink it could he?

“My father was the chef.” She offered as she retrieved glasses. “When he passed we prevailed ourselves on the local restaurant take-away services. I blame their superior skills for my lack of them.”

“Hence all the noodles.” A smile played around his lips that dared her to contradict him. Or kiss him. How would he react if she did?

She took a fortifying gulp from her new glass to keep her mouth from saying or doing something stupid. “They are hard to burn. I am, however, a professional in the washing up department.”

“Care to prove that Dr Preston?”

It turned out Flynn was in a playful mood as they cleared up too. Whenever Lucy turned her back he found a way to flick bubbles at her or he’d swish the tea towel within a hairs-breath of her, forcing her to bite her cheek to keep from laughing or shrieking aloud. Before long her claim to superior washing up skills was looking shaky. Still, two could play at that game. She ‘accidentally’ dropped a fork so she could drip suds on his hair, then, when he was stacking the plates she managed to plant her wet, glove-clad hand in the centre of his back to which he growled and threatened terrible retribution.

“No!” She laughed, darting around the island as he stepped menacingly towards her, a cartoonish leer on his face.

He lumbered left so she shot right, dipping her hand into the sink and scooping out a handful of suds to throw. Only it wasn’t just suds she picked up and she watched with fatalistic horror as a stream of water flew over at him, covering him from his high brow and right down his front.

She clapped her wet hand across her mouth. “Oh god! I’m sorry.” Trust her to spoil the fun.

To her surprise the rumble that erupted from his chest was that of laugher, full bellied and delighted, rather than disapproval. He swept the water through his hair and shook out his arms. “I surrender!”

“Your top..!”

Lips curling into a smile, he lifted the offending material off the skin it was clinging to. “It will dry.” Then he crossed his arms and lifted the hem of the offending garment upwards. Lucy all but choked as a narrow waist and a black line of body hair was revealed. “You wouldn’t have anything in my size for me to wear while it does by any chance?” His voice was muffled by the material over his head but Lucy’s eyes were transfixed. All that beautiful flesh on display in her kitchen, muscle and sinew, dark, dark hair arrowing down to…

“Lucy?”

Never in all her days - not once - had her face glowed so brightly as it did when she realised he’d caught her looking.

“Umm..?”

“A top? For me to wear?” An amused smile danced around his lips but the rest of his face tautened into sharp angles, alert and speculative. “Do you have one? Like one of those you stole from me in the bunker?”

Her eyes snapped to his. “I’ll, er, see if I have anything.” She knew where each of the purloined items was but she slept in some and wrapped herself in others. Well, hell.

Two minutes of giving herself a stern talking to later Lucy reappeared with a grey hoodie. All things considered it was the only top she was prepared to sacrifice. And if it covered up his naked torso (really she could cry, it was a crime to hide even the smallest of scars there without at least letting her spend some time familiarising herself with how they felt) then at least she’d be able to hold a relatively normal conversation without her eyes and mind wandering.

“Thanks.” Flynn shrugged it on, his head staying inside the material for a moment longer than it should have before popping out, his hair a dishevelled mess and a dusting of colour staining his high cheek bones. “It smells better than I remember.”

O-kay. Not touching that with a ten foot pole. Her mind was still in the gutter and trying to read things into what he was saying. Remember how he looked when he realised Rufus and Jiya were trying to set them up, she demanded. Remember he’s mourning his wife. Remember what happens if you try this and it all goes wrong again. Because if losing a friend and teammate had been bad before, losing Garcia Flynn would be life threatening.

So yes, it was cowardly but putting some distance between them seemed prudent. She navigated the kitchen island and sought refuge in holding her new drink. No way was she consuming any more - loosened inhibitions were absolutely not called for right now - but nursing the glass kept her hands occupied.

“I, um, must have mixed some of your things up with mine when we packed.” Lucy’s voice wobbled.

Flynn just raised an eyebrow.

“Unpacking is taking me forever. I’ll, er, see if there are any more of your things in there in the New Year.” Would it be too obvious if she conveniently forgot to give them back?

His head tilted as he studied her, looking from the teeth worrying her lower lip to her fidgeting hands and back again.

“Lucy…”

The breath caught in her throat as he dragged out her name, her heart stepping up to a rapid staccato she wasn’t entirely certain he couldn’t hear. “Yes?” Oh lord, she sounded all breathy and faint. Why in the name of everything holy had she invited him in tonight? He was going to guess how she felt and everything was going to be awful.

“My wine is looking good right about now.”

Wine? What? It took a full minute for her to realise she was stood next to the glass she’d poured for him but never given. Trying not to fumble too badly she grasped the stem, willing it not to break in her death grip, and took a tentative step forwards. She could maybe get it to him by pushing it across the work surface that divided them but knowing her luck (and propensity for clumsiness) she’d end up toppling the glass and causing him to need a second change of shirt. Just the thought was enough to make her already prickling skin heat further. No. There was nothing else for it, she was going to have to take a deep breath, get close enough to enact the exchange then move away as fast as she could without tripping up.

The pull of him had her stepping closer than she should have. The smell of him had her lingering longer than was safe. Even stretching out the glass to him felt like a risk. She wanted so badly to touch him she was vibrating with it. 

For the second time that night Flynn reached out a hand to steady her, but this time instead of providing comfort he extracted the tortured glass and lifted her now free digits to his cheek. Her fingers itched to curl into the hair around his ear while her brain came to a sudden, abrupt halt.

The melting green depths of his eyes held hers for what felt like a lifetime before he slowly shifted forwards, turning his head just enough so that he could plant a kiss in the centre of her palm. Live electricity shot straight through her arm and attempted to curl her hair, the place where his lips touched a permanent if not visible mark. Her own lips parted on a gasp as he continued to hold her gaze, not missing a single emotion that flashed there. His tongue snaked out in its familiar swipe at his upper lip and all she could think was ‘ _kiss me’_. 

Maybe she uttered the words aloud because the next moment he was close enough for her to see each individual eyelash before his lips met hers and she lost all sense of everything but him; the soft velvet sweep of his lips, the taste of his breath in her mouth, the overwhelming sense of rightness. 

Flynn’s kiss was slow, allowing her the chance to pull away. Much as she wanted his hands in her hair he kept them respectfully at his sides, allowing her to control what happened or didn’t. The careful caress of his mouth against hers softened everything until she found herself leaning forwards to be closer, opening her lips so that her tongue could trace the seam of his. A low, masculine purr of approval reverberated down her spine, making her sway and fall further forwards, her hand sliding into the hair she’d wanted to stroke forever, her body cradled between his thighs.

As her tongue sought a second taste his mouth opened for her and suddenly it wasn’t a chaste and careful kiss anymore but rather a spark to tinder. She couldn’t get close enough. He shifted so his arms could move, the feel of his fingers on her scalp sending another shuddering sigh through her. Their mouths battled and acquiesced, learning the hollows of the unfamiliar spaces, retreating and recommencing the dance until Lucy couldn’t tell if she was breathing or he was or, if indeed they’d both stopped at some point.

When they pulled apart they were both panting. If she was honest Lucy wasn’t even sure she knew which way was up. All she really knew was she wanted more. More kisses. More touches. More everything. Greedily she tried to reconnect but he pulled back, holding her steady as he lent his forehead against hers and took a calming breath.

“Lucy…” Everything inside of her liquefied and clenched at the same time, the need to be closer a driving force but he held her firmly away. “Lucy, slow down.”

Slow down? Why? He’d kisses her. Dear God had he kissed her, and now..? 

“ _Du_ _šo_.” His lips brushed against her temple. “ _Draga_.” They moved down to kiss the very tip of her nose. “Is this really what you want?”

What she wanted? Lucy had never been more certain of anything in her entire life. Why was he asking that? Was he not sure?

“It’s Christmas Eve,” the soulful seriousness of his look gave her pause. “Emotions are running high.” His gorgeous voice was an octave lower than normal, deeper than she’d ever heard it, causing her stomach to tremble. “You are missing your sister-”

“Amy?”

“And I’d understand if you got caught up in the moment.”

Oh, she’d absolutely done that. His mouth was like a miracle. 

Wait. Was he giving her an out? He thought she’d want an excuse for her reactions to him?

“As you said, we’re friends and I would never want to do anything to jeopardise that. What we have, I … this means … everything to me Lucy. So if you want what just happened to disappear, then it’s gone. If it was a temporary aberration…”

For the first time it occurred to Lucy that there was a chance - slim as it might be - that Flynn, _the_ Garcia Flynn of ‘act first think later’ infamy, could be as unsure of her as she was of him. No. He was always so confident, to the point of downright smug. And yet.

“Flynn.” The name didn’t really fit the moment. “Garcia.” His huge frame became still, the air of expectation heavy. “I…”

Lucy had stood in front of her historical hero’s and words had not failed her. She’d remembered and reimagined Travis’ letter from the Alamo while Santa Anna bayed at the door for heaven’s sake. But right here, seconds from something she wanted so much, not one solitary sentence came to her aid. Instead she screwed up all of her courage, put her hands on his cheeks and, just as carefully as he had for her, touched their lips together.

“Not an aberration.” She managed as she held his eyes, his pupils slowly eating away at the iris’ leaving nothing but a hot black. “Not me trying to find solace for the night.” She stepped closer so that their torsos were flush as a fine tremor ran along the hand resting in her hair. Feeling more confident she dared another, less chaste, more satisfying kiss, pulling back before she lost the ability to say it. “This … feeling … isn’t temporary.” She breathed deep, holding her nerve by sheer force of will. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time.” 

The world shimmered around them but neither moved. Time slowed until a single breath took an eon, one blink eternity. 

Flynn’s words were a whisper. “I’ll take whatever you have to give, _ljubavi moja_ , for as long as you want to give it.” He really was shaking now, holding her as though there was nothing more precious. “I know you can never feel the same,” his eyes closed before opening again to burn with emotion, “and I don’t expect anything from you but it’s Christmas, and I wanted you to know that you are so loved. I love you. I always will. No matter what.” A finger stole the tear from her cheek. “So when this … not temporary … feeling goes away all you need to do is say the word and-”

He was a total idiot. An even bigger idiot than she was. If she wasn’t so happy she’d have railed at him.

Instead she smacked him on the shoulder and smiled. “I love you too you blockheaded Croatian. I thought you didn’t feel that way about me.”

He looked scandalised by the notion. “What? Even a blind man can see how I feel about you! I thought when you said we were friends in the café tonight you were telling me there was no chance…”

“No!” If he hadn’t taken the risk how long would they have danced around this? “I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable that Rufus and Jiya were matchmaking but I got tongue tied and then you looked…”

“I’ve been trying to find a way to bring it up but it was never the right time and I didn’t want you to feel pressured by my feelings-“

Oh how she loved this stupid, wonderful, giant of a man. “Garcia?” 

“Yes?”

“When people ask how we got together we’re telling them we talked it out like adults. We’re going to say we used our words and never mention how we almost screwed it up, okay?”

“You think they’ll buy that?”

“I think if you glare at them for long enough they’ll shut up and let it go.”

He smiled and she forgot all about other people. “I was also thinking…”

“Yes, Lucy?”

“Maybe talking too much is overrated?”

For an answer he kissed her.

***

When Lucy stretched out her arm Flynn – Garcia’s – side of the bed was warm but empty. Images of the previous evening had her smiling and stretching and aching for his speedy return. When that didn’t happen she grabbed one of his tops and wandered down the stairs to see what he was up to.

The house was quiet but a new glow from the living room had her peering round the corner to see his silhouette in the freshly strung Christmas lights. The pretty white bulbs made everything feel warmer but were no substitute for his arms so she padded over and snuggled in.

He nuzzled her neck as she asked, “What are you doing?”

Keeping his voice low he breathed into her ear, “Your tree looked a little lonely this evening so I thought I’d add the lights. I hope you don’t mind?”

How could she? The calm, gentle twinkle of Christmas and the man of her dreams all wrapped up together. Who could ask for more?

“I didn’t open the other boxes.” He dropped a soft kiss on her hair. “I guessed the things in there shouldn’t be touched.”

“Thank you.”

His hand appeared before her, something dangling from one long finger. “Maybe you could hang this instead?”

Lucy popped her hand out from the overlong sleeve and captured a snow globe ornament in it. Inside sat an old fashioned Ferris wheel.

“Chicago!”

“That’s what I thought when I saw it too.” He drew her closer, a perfect fit. “1893 was a complete disaster. _I_ was a complete disaster. If you’d called my bluff then, well, I have no idea what I’d have done but despite all of it you were the brightest part of my life.”

Squeezing his arm she thought back, through all the ups and downs and everything in between. Thought of how the painful, hard road had led them both here, to this moment. “It’s perfect.” She took the bauble from him and hung it in the centre of the tree. “Our first Christmas ornament.”

“The first of many, I hope?”

“Mmm. Our first ornament for our first Christmas together.”


End file.
